If Wishes Were Horses...
by Sarr Chasm
Summary: After Xander leaves Anya in Hells Bells, Buffy starts to doubt her own decisions when it comes to love. Her wish for second chances is answered by an unexpected person, sending her back to the time before her [second] death. *Spuffiness now here*
1. Prologue: Power

Disclaimer:You wanna hear a sob story? Ok, so I was sitting in English class one day and someone starts talking about goths. I think, "Goths. Black. Spikes. Dark. Vampires. Girl who slays vampires. Girl who slays vampires while trying to be normal." and it went on from there. What -I- can't understand is how that damned Joss Wheldon read my mind and created BtVS! I think he's in connection with some dark forces. How else could he come up with that only I can? 

(Joss, Mutant Enemy, UPN--- please don't send out for me. I swear all allegiance to you. Just stay out of my mind.)   
  


A/N: Takes place at the end of Hells Bells. I added a scene and then reiterated one. It'll progress in an AU from here on out except I'll be visiting some Season 5 stuff. So really, there's not much in the way of spoilers unless you haven't seen Season 5 in -which- case I refuse to talk to you. Go home, catch up on Buffy, and then come back to me.   
  


A/N on Commentary: PLEASE review! I need to know how to improve. Suggestions ALWAYS welcome, especially with where you think I can take this story. And if you're here because I reviewed -your- story, just remember... I reviewed -your- story.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Prologue   
  


Buffy surveyed the mess with a wary eye, leaning heavily on her mop. 

"The guests sure did a number on this place," she commented, warranting a nod from Willow and a shrug from Dawn. After what had just taken place (or hadn't), no one seemed to be in a talkative mood. 

"I can't believe Xander left!" Oh, except for that. Willow seemed resolved to say nearly nothing else. The groom's best "man" looked on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time that evening and Buffy shared the sentiment. Anya and Xander were supposed to be her light at the end of the tunnel, living proof that love conquers all, true happiness is within reach. Instead, their "happily ever after" quickly dissolved into "never after" with no "happily" in sight. Her light had proved to be a random bystander's flashlight and the tunnel... Well, the tunnel -had- no end. 

Hours passed and eventually the hall was passable, at best. The girls called it a night and Dawn left with Willow, leaving Buffy alone for a quick patrol. Buffy made for the bathroom to change into more suitable attire and for several minutes afterwards stood holding her abomination-known-as-a-bridesmaids-dress at arms length, nose wrinkled in disdain. She briefly entertained the thought of throwing it out and then setting the trash can on fire, but instead decided to tuck it away in her bag, praying that the wedding might still go on at a later date. 

Somehow, she doubted it. 

  
  
  
  


She sat in a darkened room, her white dress an open mockery of the black pain she felt brewing inside herself. Salty tears fell laced with mascara and eyeliner, leaving dark circles under her eyes and streaks on her perfectly made up face. 

D'Hoffryn, her only consoler (everyone else reminded her too much of Xander), handed her a tissue. 

"Are you ok?" D'Hoffryn knew the answer, but also knew it was a typical question in these types of situations. Even if he was a bit bumpy on the outside, it never hurt to conform to the norm. Anya slowly shook her head, her glassy gaze fixed on the ground. 

"I'm tired of crying. I'm so tired, D'Hoffryn," she whispered, her voice a feeble imitation of that which had so recently been vivacious and full of pep. 

"Anyanka," he started, using her demon name as a reminder of her past, "I'm sorry, but you let him domesticate you." Time to pull out the big guns. "When you were a vengeance demon, you were powerful, at the top of your game. You crushed men like him. 

"It's time you get back to what you do best, don't you think?" Her gaze slowly shifted until she looked him full on. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a part of her still reminded herself that she used to be powerful. She used to be -somebody-. 

Anya---Anyanka---nodded her assent. 

It was time to be powerful again.   
  
  
  
  
  


TBC... 


	2. 1. If Wishes Were Horses...

A/N: This chapter's going to get the ball rolling and the wish'll happen. Complete AU will probably come in starting next chapter.   
  


Thanks for everyone that read the prologue, even though it was very short and not too scintillating! Hopefully, this chapter will be better and at least longer. Please review and tell me what you think! (Btw, please tell me when it gets boring, I have a tendency to ramble on.)   
  


P.S. The things in the parenthesizes by the "quiz" are more like narrator comments which Buffy -could- be thinking, but not necessarily her thoughts. I'll try to keep character thoughts in *'s.   
  


P.P.S. To Kaija and anyone else that was wondering: In the prologue, the POV skips from Buffy to Anya. Sorry if it was confusing, I know I didn't make it very clear. I'm going to stick mostly to an omniscient 3rd person narrator so it'll be a couple of different POVs, I just hope I make it clearer.   
  


*~*~*~*~*~* means flashback/dream sequence.   
  
  
  


Chapter One: If Wishes Were Horses... 

It was a restless night--- For everyone. The events of the day had yielded plenty of contemplation material, none of it particularly pleasant. 

Xander tossed and turned while his heart screamed in protest and his mind tried to rationalize what he had done. Sleep, when it came to him, was anything but replenishing. 

Anya, on the other hand, slept soundly with the knowledge that now she would be able to repay her ex-fiance tenfold for leaving her. A malicious grin crept across her face, even as she slept; it was his turn. 

Buffy, though weary from the events of the day, shunned sleep knowing her dreams would return to -him-. They always did. Every night since Riley had returned (with his wife, no less) and she had broken it off with Spike, her dreams were littered with him. Sometimes he was touching her, tender and slow, nothing like the frantic pace they had gone at. His cool fingers would graze over her bare skin and she would shiver in her sleep. Other times, there were just his eyes and she watched his heart break, reflected in those sapphire orbs, when she told him it was really over. 

She always woke up crying. 

So tonight there would be no sleep. Buffy sat in the kitchen all night, rather uncomfortable on the hard barstool, but unwilling to "rest" on the couch knowing she would nod off. Her coffee mug seemed glued to her hand and she idly flipped through some back issues of Glamour and Cosmopolitan. Her eyes scanned the pages disinterestedly until coming to a quiz entitled: "How to know if your man is in love with you." 

1.) He showers you with gifts and never asks for -anything- in return. 

(Well, Spike -did- dust a lot of vamps for her... Aren't those presents?) 

2.) He openly declares his love for you, even around your friends. 

(True. All of the Scoobies knew of Spike's "infatuation" with her, even though most of them hoped it had worn off during the summer of her... extended absence.) 

3.) He does not fall easily in and out of love. 

(He had been with Drusilla for over a hundred years. You can hardly -get- more devoted.) 

4.) He's changed for the better because of you. 

(There was the question. Had Spike really changed, like he claimed, for love or to get into Buffy's pants? Although she was almost loath to admit it, Buffy always came back to the fact that a chip wouldn't keep Spike from killing. Hell, he even enjoyed pain, it might even be more of a turn-on for him. As it was, he hadn't eaten anything but pigs blood, and those "flowering-onion things" since being chipped. There was change, for you.) 

She skimmed through the rest of the questions until coming to "How to know if you're in love with your man." Buffy slammed the magazine shut and hurled it toward the fridge. She did -not- need to read about that! 

Sometimes she had to wonder which was the correct party: her mind, rational and collected, filled with extensive knowledge on evil, undead things that told her it was -very- wrong, or her heart which opened up during her dreams where in sleep, her mind had no power. 

Buffy smirked. Her mind was right, of course. 

In any case, she did not sleep that night, knowing that her dreams would refute her resolve.   
  


* * *   
  


The small bell above the door in the magic shopping jingled as Buffy walked in. She was surprised to see customers milling about and even more so to see Anya behind the cash register. She ducked under the hollowed area of the counter and smiled at her. 

Anya looked up from counting her money (almost a greater source of comfort than D'Hoffryn had been) to see Xander. No, it wasn't -really- Xander, but she might as well have been seeing how he and Buffy were so close. God, it hurt just to look at her. 

Nevertheless, she smiled shakily like any human in pain would have done, pretending to be grateful to see a "friendly" face. 

"I'm going back to the training room... Do you need anything?" Anya could tell Buffy had no idea what to say to her. She also knew that Buffy considered Anya the odd one out in their little "gang," with her open bluntness and let-no-secrets-come-between-us attitude. 

Hmph, no matter, maybe she'd get Buffy too when she was done with Xander. Or maybe she'd find someway to maim two birds with one stone. Cold, calculating, demonic Anyanka preempted Anya's thoughts though she screamed in the background, "Hurt Xander, are you crazy?!" Anyanka crushed that small voice, reminding herself that he hurt her -first-. That had to count for something. 

"No," she answered sweetly, "It hurts, but I don't think anyone could help it go away." Buffy started to protest, about to tell her how she had felt when Angel and Riley had left, but finally conceded the point. Talking about it, though believed to be such a tried-and-true remedy, was rather overrated. 

They hugged and Buffy went into the back room, closing the heavy door behind her. Anyanka smiled. She could literally smell the anguish coming off of Buffy in waves. There was a woman scorned, if she had never seen one. Maybe a little têt-a-têt wouldn't hurt after all... 

For Anyanka, that is.   
  


* * *   
  


The poor punching bag--- It never had a chance. It seemed to be the manifestation of all Buffy's problems and why not confront a problem if it's staring you in the face? To put it simply, she whaled on the thing. 

She had eventually dozed off last night, crumpling her magazines on the kitchen counter. As expected, her dreams had come back to Spike, reliving the wedding experience. 

*~*~*~*~*~* 

He had grimaced when she told him that it hurt to see him with someone else. Bugger it all, that wasn't his intention. Or, actually, it was, but he really had meant just to get a rise out of her, not to -hurt- her. He even apologized. 

"You want us to go," he stated flatly, not as a question, but as the answer to her body language. She was obviously uncomfortable at seeing him. 

"No, no I..." *Please keep going on that train of thought...* he prayed, but she quickly derailed that train. "No, you have every right to be here... And I pretty much deserve---" 

"That's not true," he cut in, not wanting her to hate herself. All he wanted now was to hold her, to whisper encouraging things into her ear and soothe her pains away. But, hello? Evil here. "God this is hard," he complained, exasperated with his touchy-feely emotions. 

She nodded. 

"Yeah." 

He tried again. 

"It's nice to watch you be happy, for them, even. I don't see it a lot," *Because you always run out before you give yourself the chance at happiness* the sardonic part of him added. "You... You glow." She smiled appreciatively. 

"That's because the dress is radioactive," she attempted humor, causing a small smile to come out and play on his lips. He decided he should go and told her so. No point in bollocksing up her vicariously happy day. 

"But it hurts?" He knew it did, but he needed to hear it again. 

"Yeah." He nodded, his eyes unreadable. 

"Thanks," he replied softly and walked away. He knew she didn't think he heard it, but he did. 

"You're welcome." 

*~*~*~*~*~*   
  


How could he be so sensitive sometimes and such an animal at others? Although part of her reveled in his unpredictability, the steadier, "normal" part of her wanted someone consistent and reliable. Someone she could set her watch to. 

Someone like Riley. 

After beating the punching bag to a bloody pulp (albeit the "blood" was just leaky sand), she shook her arms and opened the door to the shop. The sun was beginning to set and Anya was already closing up the store. Buffy figured she'd try again. 

"Anya?" she asked quietly. Anya looked up from her perpetual station by the money. 

"I'm heading out," she continued, "Do you want to come out for coffee or something with me?" 

Remembering her earlier resolve, Anyanka inwardly grinned. Perfect opportunity.   
  


* * *   
  


Buffy had meant this to be "Cheer Up Anya" time, but somehow she ended up spilling about her own love life. At first she had meant it to be comforting, life goes on and all that crap, but now it was just self-involved rambling... And she couldn't stop. Even her little "tryst" with Spike had come pouring out and while Sensible Buffy knew it wasn't a good idea, that Anya could -never- keep her mouth closed on such matters, All-About-Me Buffy felt good talking about it. 

"...And he's so infuriating. He'll be such an ass, then the best sex I've ever had," Buffy knew Anya was never shy about talking about her sex life, why should she be?, "And completely sweet and sensitive, and then an ass again! It makes my head spin, it's so confusing," she echoed her sentiments from earlier in the Magic Box. 

"Sometimes, Anya, I... I just wish that I was back with Riley. I don't know what would have happened, but I know it wouldn't be -this-. Maybe even you and Xander would have turned out differently." Buffy watched, slightly confused, as a twisted grin spread on Anya's face. 

"You want to test that theory?" Anyanka asked to the confusion of Buffy. She shifted into her demon visage. 

"Wish granted."   
  
  
  
  
  


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A/N: Can anyone tell me how to make my HTML tags work? I've tried manually typing them in and they just show up on the screen, I've tried uploading the document as a .HTML file and a .doc file and nothing's working! How is it that some people can use italics and bold and I can't?! It's really frustrating, so if you have an answer, just leave it in the review please. (You -are- going to review it, aren't you?) 


	3. 2. ...Beggars Would Ride

DISCLAIMER: Since this story's set in an alternate universe, isn't it possible that in some AU that I'd be the one to own BtVS, namely, Spike? Doesn't it? ...Er, guess not. I suppose in -this- universe, all still belongs to Joss and his fellow cohorts...   
  


...Can -I- be a cohort?   
  


A/N: AU starts at the end of "Into the Woods." Suggest you see it. Kind of an alternative ending. The following Season 5 episodes will be pretty screwy from here on out so don't count on much.   
  


And please, bare with me as we go through this Riley "phase." I am an adamant believer in B/S and would never let down my fellow Spuffy fans! ;-)   
  
  
  


Chapter Two: ...Beggars Would Ride   
  


"Sometimes, Anya, I... I just wish that I was back with Riley. I don't know what would have happened, but I know it wouldn't be -this-. Maybe even you and Xander would have turned out differently." Buffy watched, slightly confused, as a twisted grin spread on Anya's face. 

"You want to test that theory?" Anyanka asked to the confusion of Buffy. She shifted into her demon visage. 

"Wish granted." 

The world went black and then white. A searing pain ripped through Buffy's body, running through her so completely that it morbidly reminded her of jumping off the tower into the portal. It coursed through her body, tingling and shocking, as if someone was poking her nerves with live wires. 

Abruptly, the pain stopped and she almost felt empty without it. Aftershocks from the sensations rolled through her body, leaving her panting and breathless. Sights began to appear from beyond the whiteness, quickly morphing into sounds and feelings. 

Her feet touched solid ground and a remote part of her mind noted that she was running through the woods. She was still breathless, tired from the exertion of running from the other side of town. After what seemed like hours, the tree line broke and she felt a sense of relief when she came to the clearing. The relief was short-lived when she noticed that the helicopter was already in the air. 

"Riley!" she screamed over and over, praying to any Power listening that he wouldn't leave her. This wasn't supposed to happen. She had her epiphany, courtesy of Xander and his sense-making, and now she was supposed to get the guy. 

By the grace of God, Riley looked to the left to see his nearly-former jumping up and down. He could barely make out that her mouth was moving and much less hear the words, but he knew what she was screaming. 

"Riley, don't leave, I love you!" 

Nearly leaping from his seat down a formidable height of a hundred feet to the ground, Riley violently motioned for the pilot to land. The officers were upset, to say the -very- least, but eventually respected his rights to choose his own life and grudgingly set the helicopter down in the field. 

As if blown by the winds created by the blades, she was suddenly in his arms, her mouth on his. Any parting words from Graham or Major Ellis were lost on him; she filled his senses, completely disarming rational thought. His packs thudded to the ground beside them, but went unnoticed by the reunited lovers. She was his lifeline and in her presence, nothing else mattered. 

Such is love.   
  
  
  


There was a nagging voice in the back of Buffy's mind, insistently tugging for her attention. Given that she was otherwise occupied at the moment, she swatted the voice away. 

*Something's wrong here!* it protested, but it didn't have the chance to present its case right then. They had fallen to the ground, limbs entwined and tangled. They both knew there were still questions to be answered and figurative demons to be faced, but for now, this was a start. 

Riley eventually extracted himself before things got out of control and suggested they go back to her place. 

(Always with the propriety. If she had run back into the arms of Spike after such an ultimatum, he would have taken her -right there-. What would Riley be in British terms? Oh yes, a "prig.") 

Riley swept his diminutive Slayer into his arms and started for her house, an image of her bed firmly fixed in both their minds. Buffy set her head comfortably on a broad shoulder and smiled the smile of a girl content. 

*This is how it's supposed to end* she thought to herself, quickly squashing the nagging voice that said otherwise.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Anyanka stepped out from behind a copse of trees, her face contorted in a cruel semblance of a human face. Her blonde hair fluttered in front of her face from the residual wind, sticking to her mouth, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the retreating couple. 

"I have a feeling this will be very interesting," her voice rasped before she faded into the shadows, making her way across town. There was much more to be done tonight.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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A/N: Sorry so short. Hopefully, I'll have another chapter up soon, even though I'm kinda confused on what I'll do. I don't think having Riley back will mess the show up -that- much so I'm considering skipping over most of the next episodes and going to The Gift (or somewhere near it.. I'm gonna fit Spike in pretty soon.) Please, if you have any ideas, post them for me! Thanks for reading! 

_______________________________________   
  


A/N 2: I've reposted this chapter just to add this in. In response to a comment I just read from Haley Teague, Riley won't be a very big part of this fic so if you don't like him (as I don't), please don't stop reading because you think he'll be around. I'm gonna get rid of him pretty soon (though not in as flashy way as TalesOfSpike did in "In the Name of Love..." What a way to go...) so be not deterred! 

On another note, (which I had meant to address before), yes, Cordy -did- remember everything in "The Wish," but since that would present sticky, past-altering situations I decided to have Buffy not remember. If you need an excuse to assuage your "But it's WRONG!" radar, then you can tell yourself that since Anya got turned into Anyanka -twice-, her power isn't exactly the same or that it's a mental thing that Buffy doesn't want to remember the particulars. Her conscious self is just happy that things seem ok right now, but in this chapter you begin to hear her sub-conscious trying to tell her that something's wrong. Call that her post-traumatic, repressed memory if you will. 

And lastly, yes, there is an Anya -and- an Anyanka, but you'll have to read to see how that works out. 


	4. 3. Chains, Whips, and Leather Thongs

DISCLAIMER: So I went to court today and got my name changed. Yep, that's right, I am now legally Joss "Mutant Enemy" Whedon. Pretty cool, huh? 

::sniff:: No... not really... 

DEDICATION: To everyone that read and reviewed chapter 3. -Especially- everyone that reviewed! All the comments were much, MUCH appreciated and gave me some ideas. Also throwing out a whopping "THANKS!" to www.buffyguide.com for their extensive season guide. Definitely helping me research this completely (unfortunately, I have big holes in my season 5 collection of tapes). Wow, I feel like I'm giving an Oscar speech or something. "And I'd like to thank all the little people I had to step on to get to where I am today." 

Btw, it's about time for some Spuffiness... Don't you say, children? Mrwow. 

* * *

Chapter Three: Chains, Whips, and Leather Thongs   
  


For the first couple of days, everything felt like it was before Spike had revealed Riley's "dirty little secret." Slaying was quiet, fledgling vamps were predictable, even her mom seemed to be getting better. 

But soon enough, little disasters were almost a welcome change from the monotony that seemed to be engulfing Buffy's world; she had eagerly jumped at the chance to take on Olaf the Troll, Anya's baby-craving ex-boyfriend. 

Then it started happening. Buffy and Riley began to quarrel over the small things, splitting hairs until the old man was bald (or whatever you split hairs on I never bothered to find out, myself). They would make up at night and spend hours lost in each other's embrace, but they both knew it wasn't enough to save them. 

Riley had begun to leave in the middle of the night again, slipping out surreptitiously during the wee hours of the morning when he obviously thought his lover was asleep. 

But Slayers never sleep. Sure, their minds may be resting and their eyes may be closed, but both ears are always open for the things that go bump in the night. Riley, although thinking he was being stealthy, certainly ­did- go *bump* in the dark and Buffy could hear it clearly. 

She waited for the click of the front door before allowing the silent tears to fall. Even though she had chosen him, even though she had ­loved- him, he still believed that she was holding back. Why else would he creep off to be with his vampire whores? 

Buffy didn't tell anyone about Riley's reoccurring disappearances; she didn't even confront him about it. She was tired of confrontation. When would she be able to simply sit and enjoy the view? (Never mind the little voice that berated her for her boredom a few days earlier.) After a few days of his sneaking around, she began to feel cheap. How could he sleep with her after being with those -monsters- unless he thought very little of her? Showers couldn't wash the dirtiness she felt away and she was beginning to run out of soap. Buffy finally decided to trail him to confirm her fears.   
  


* * *   
  


The place was the same as before. Not literally, since the last one had gone up in flames, courtesy of Rambo Buffy, but it sent off the same vibe. You know, that decrepit, starving-for-some-blood-creatures-of-the-night, dirty crack house vibe. You know. 

Buffy slowly made her way up the staircase, choosing her steps very carefully, lest she fall straight through the floor. A room at the end of the hallway seemed to call to her, and she made her way toward it, avoiding discarded needles and emptied bottles of pills. The door was slightly ajar so she helped it open the rest of the way and gasped at the sight. 

Riley lay in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a black leather thong, spiked with silver pointy-things around the waist band. His wrists and ankles were bound by heavy iron fetters attached to the floor. A multi-pronged whip sat beside him and the open wounds on his stomach showed that -someone- liked a good game of Dominatrix. His neck sported several fang marks, some fresh and some barely healed. Buffy vaguely remembered wondering why he had been wearing turtlenecks more than usual. 

The whole scene made her stomach queasy and her head spin. She shakily reached for a stake out of her coat pocket, looking around for the prostitute vamp. None in sight, she soundless padded over to the immobilized and apparently unconscious Riley and crouched beside him. The anger she felt at the situation was presently drowned out by grief as she realized his lips were blue from lack of blood and his chest was not rising with regular breaths. Whoever had him last had gone just a step too far. 

She stood and simply stared, wondering if tears would come. Even though this time she knew he was gone, he had left her long before. Buffy simply couldn't cry anymore. 

Turning away, Buffy strode purposefully for the door, wanting nothing more than to leave. A feral snarl, turned her around again and her stake was through his heart before she knew what had happened. 

Dust lined the chains and a small, hysterical part of her wondered if she should take some home as a keepsake. "Look Ma! Two vampire boyfriends!" Shaking uncontrollably, she fled the house without stopping to light it on fire. 

*Oh God, oh God, oh God...* Buffy stopped outside the front door, pausing long enough to give her dinner to the bushes. Her mouth felt dry and her mind was hazy. She couldn't go home, she couldn't go to Riley's... 

Without realizing it, her feet took her to an oddly comforting place: the graveyard.   
  


* * *   
  


It was reaching dawn and Spike had long since been back in his crypt. He sported a few random bruises courtesy of late-night carousing, but nothing that wouldn't heal before morning. 

Stretching himself languidly across his newest addition to the recliner family (La-Z-Boy done had themselves a Five-Finger Discount!), he picked up a worse-for-wear looking "Complete Works of William Shakespeare" volume. The golden edges were beginning to rub off on his fingers and the ink was running, but it was clearly a favorite. Presently, the third act of Julius Caesar had been dog-eared and he picked up where he had left off earlier in the evening. 

[CASCA stabs CAESAR in the neck. CAESAR catches hold of his arm. He is then stabbed by several other conspirators and at last by MARCUS BRUTUS.] 

Caesar: Et tu, Brute? ---Then fall, Caesar!   
  


Spike grinned. Good ol' Willy. Always knew to add a bloody scene in to appease the crowds. He especially loved the treachery behind it all. Made him wish he'd been alive in Roman times -just- to see the look on Caesar's face as his best friend dealt the final blow. The irony was bloody delicious... Hm... Bloody... 

Nearly salivating from the thought of the 33 some-odd knife wounds, Spike helped himself to some lovely (*shudder*) pig's blood before settling back in. He wasn't reading for long before he sensed Her presence. Not particularly enjoying the idea of being laughed at by the Scoobies for being a Shakespeare fan, he tossed the book haphazardly into the darkest recesses of his lower crypt. Hm, no wonder it wasn't mint-condition. 

As the Slayer got nearer, Spike climbed the ladder to the upper-level, pulling the trapdoor shut behind him. It wouldn't do to have Buffy see her "shrine" and get all "You're a stalker!" on him, now would it? He situated himself on the stone sarcophagus which had been made slightly more comfortable by a ratty red velour pillow and waited for the inevitable. 

There it was: the Slayer slammed the door open in an apparent fit of rage. Crykies. No doubt she was still mad at him for uncovering Captain America's little secret. As she neared, Spike became confused by the tears coursing down her face and the redness of her puffy eyes. 

Any snarky remark flew -right- out the window at that moment. 

"Luv... Wuzz'a matter?" he swung his legs over the stone coffin and strode toward her, his steps hesitant. Deja vu... It was like the back-porch scene all over again, only this time without as much murderous intent on his part. 

She hiccupped some nonsense about the Boy Scout turning vampy and wearing a leather thong and handcuffs before he held up his hands in a silent appeasement. 

"Too much info, right there. Umm.." he vainly searched for some modicum of comfort. "You, uh, want a drink? Cheers me up, right as rain," he offered. Buffy shook her head, golden waves falling loosely about her shoulder. She stood defensively, not more than 5 feet away from him, with her arms wrapped around herself. 

"I... I don't even know why I'm here," she quietly confessed as her small shoulders shook. Spike finally took that figurative leap and crossed the short distance, placing both hands on each shoulder. He craned his neck to catch her gaze and she finally lifted her head. 

"Look. I'm not all about the comforting... Evil, yeh?... But that git was never worthy enough to be in love with the whelp, much less you." There was a tinge of a smile at the Riley/Xander mental picture, but it disappeared quickly as she looked away. At that moment, Spike knew he wanted to see that smile again. 

Buffy's head and attention turned back to him and they stood, each mesmerized and lost in the other's eyes until Buffy broke the trance. 

Spike had one thought in his head. 

*Bloody hell... I'm kissing the Slayer.*   
  


___________________________________ 

A/N: Phew. I sacrificed studying for a math quest (not quite a quiz, not quite a test, but still large enough to pull my average down) to write that so I hope you appreciate it! Please tell me what you think. Did Riley go out too lamely?   
  


And never fear: More Spuffy madness in the next chapter! (But you'll have to wait until then. See, cuz I'm evil. Mm-hmm..) 


	5. 4. The Thing About No Inhibitions

DISCLAIMER: Joss, don't sue. I have no money. I live in my 5 story Beverly Hill Mansion shack and drive my $100,000 piece of crap car, so I'm obviously on welfare and have no means of paying the required fees. Would you crush the dreams of a dying little girl by telling her that she doesn't own Spike? 

What? Oh, no, I'm not dying. That was a rhetorical question. Aren't they supposed to teach you those kinds of things in college? Geeze, where did you go? You know, that school with all those dumb people... Harvard?   
  


A/N: Pretty short chapter. I'm still having trouble figuring out where I'm going with this. I have the ending all mapped out, but unfortunately I'm not sure how to get there. Once again... 

PLEASE GIMME YOUR INPUT SO THAT I MAY BLATANTLY "BORROW" (STEAL) YOUR MAGNIFICENT IDEAS AND TAKE ALL THE CREDIT! 

* * *

Chapter Four: The Thing About No Inhibitions...   
  


Buffy wasn't sure how it had happened, only that it felt -good-. She had made the first move (she knew that much at least), grasping his face in both hands and proceeding to kiss him savagely. His large hands clamped themselves on her upper arms, and with pressure applied, broke the kiss. Spike stared at her a moment before recognizing that the confidence in her hazel eyes was all the confirmation he needed. 

*Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die* Spike's poetic side quoted Tennyson for the situation. He was certainly not going to question this fortunate twist in events and his only reply to the unasked request of "Comfort me" was to crush the diminutive Slayer closer. But to die... He could have died when she whimpered at his touch, her moans rising from the pleasure only a practiced kisser could bestow. He could have died when he noted that her eyes were closed, their butterfly-like lashes resting against her milky complexion. And he nearly -did- die when she began to employ some of her own additions to the living art they both were a part of. 

Spike remembered when the Wicca's spell had gone wrong, ending the two of them up together. He thought he had been happy then; now that joy seemed hollow compared to this. Her lips were an intoxicating mixture of salty tears and peach lip gloss, unyielding in their demands and at the same time soft and tender. 

Their urgency only grew, Buffy's spurred by pain, need for comfort, and some inexplicable voice inside her which cheered as soon as she jumped Spike. 

She clung to his back as her legs wrapped around his torso, so much like the first time that neither of them knew or remembered, but without the fight or angry fire. Her nails dug into his back and Spike silently cursed his clothing. Breaking apart for a split moment, he removed both his and her shirt in one deft motion. Her skin tingled when it came in contact with his cool chest, but it quickly warmed to her rising body temperature. 

As much as the human side of Spike wanted to profess his new-found love for her, he kept quiet, knowing that this was her night. He stumbled to a pile of worse-for-wear looking pillows and started working on comforting her. 

Demonic!Spike! took a backseat to Hopeless!Romantic!Sap!Spike! and he began to unconsciously compose poetry.   
  


*Oh beauty you are, in the moonlight glowing, 

Your eyes shine as clear as the light above. 

These moments of bliss leave me knowing 

That you are the only one I shall ever love.*   
  


Refusing to gag at his [yet again] failed attempt, Spike instead focused on the hypnotic cadence of Buffy's racing heartbeat. That, and her hypnotic eyes. And hypnotic tongue. And... Well, she hypnotized him. 

*This... This is right.* Buffy thought contentedly before her brain shut down completely, letting her instincts take over. There would be no regret tonight; just passion.   
  


* * *   
  


Anyanka was crouched in the corner by the elevator, just waiting. Actually, she had been waiting a while. -Too- long. 

*Xander was so eager to run out on our wedding... You'd think that he could at least leave the apartment for twenty minutes.* the demon-with-a-vengeance bitterly observed. Her [im]patience was eventually rewarded by the distinct creaking of the apartment door. Xander stepped out into the hall, tastefully dressed in a green hawaiian shirt (complete with a Day-Glo yellow undershirt... Who makes those things?) and muted brown pants. How very G.Q. of him. 

"Ahn, I'm heading the Magic Box to help out on the Glory info hunt. Actually, I'm making the doughnut runs..." 

A pause where a not-so-audible Anya voice must be inserted. 

"Yes, that's considered helping! Simple sugars are a pivotal part of the thought process, you know." 

Another pause. No doubt an incredibly witty comment on her part. 

"Mm-hmm. Meet me at the shop later... In clothing, preferably." 

With that biting comment (why -wouldn't- he want to see her naked? Wasn't that the whole point of being in love?), Xander closed the door and took the stairs to the ground floor. Not resisting her evil impulses, Anyanka promptly stuck out her tongue at the stairwell. Naughty, wicked girl. 

She stood and walked to the door, but as her hand rested on the doorknob, she decided to make a more theatrical entrance. 

Scientifically speaking, she went *poof!*   
  


* * *   
  


*I didn't know it could be like this* Buffy observed through a very, very thick fog. Her muscles ached in a pleasant, ache-y sort of way and shivers of pleasure danced the entirety of the Nutcracker Suite up and down her spine. She was never aware when she cried out in ecstasy; Buffy's body's actions and reactions were based purely on impulse and by no planned "thought" of any type. 

*Thoughts bad... Interfering thoughts. Bad, thoughts, bad... Mm... Bad...* her mind inanely prattled on. There is a cusp between the rationality of consciousness and the imagination of a deep sleep that every person feels right before dozing off--- Buffy was on this cusp. Her mind walked the imaginary line and every once in a while, the fog would lift enough to cause herself to wonder about Riley, about what she was doing, about the consequences. However, by some deeper, unexpressed desire of her own, Buffy's subconscious always seemed to bring the topic back to Spike's sculpted body or experienced hands. Pleasant topics. 

The trail that his cool hands left on her body, the path of tickling bruises, was anything but pleasant; it went -far- beyond such a bland word. In their dance, there was an incorporated element of pain that both found thrilling and arousing, something that catered to each of their darker sides. True, Spike's side was much more pronounced (just as his human side was more downplayed than Buffy's), but there must be two sides to every coin. 

Though the actions (and words) were harsh and biting, tenderness lay in its intent. For one night, they were not mortal enemies, they were not Slayer and Vampire, they were not even Buffy and Spike. 

They were lovers.   
  


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A/N 2 (always like to have one at the end of the chapter, too): Pretty short and mainly lacking in content. But did anyone else notice the "Spuffy" action? So... why is there complaining, again? ;P 

Prepare for a Anya-Anyanka confrontation next chapter. 

Input on the "morning after" for Buffy and Spike is -more- than welcome. 

::waves:: Review and then go read someone else's! 


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